His identity
by IlyCorps2
Summary: A year after leaving Hogwarts, Tom Riddle has already set off to transform himself into the ultimate dictator: one who cannot die. In the making of his immortality, however, Tom meets two inquisitive young girls, one of which turns out to be his cousin on his father's side. Unbeknownst to him, they'll be the cause of a fatal instant of weakness, which will determine his unmaking.
1. Chapter 1

_1\. Meeting_

After spending a whole hour negotiating prices with an elderly, seemingly-condescending witch for a ridicolously tiny plate with some weird never-seen Runes incripted on its surface, Tom again had to cope silently with its utter and unconcealable contempt for his job. There really wasn't a single redeeming thing about it: the worktime was long, the store owners were unbearable, the people were infuriating and their bargains laughable, at the beginning at least, before they claimed to actually expect him to give them a fortune for mismatched socks, ancient pebbles and patched handkerchiefs; and the worst thing was, each time an interesting customer holding a fascinating artefact showed up, Burke immediately pushed him away and rushed to the counter to haggle.

But it wasn't the fact he couldn't trust him enough to do the job which annoyed him, of course - couldn't have cared less about what that awful old skank thought of him; he'd have just wanted it to be more pleasant, depriving those self-conscious Wizards and Witches of their most precious belongings, minimizing the loss and sky-rocketing the profit whilst seeming gentlemanly and naive in the process, boosting their egos by making them feel like they won the fight while really, they did foolishly lose.

It was a caprice of his, of course, a whim: it was all worthwhile anyway, waiting to grasp the Wizarding World's most valuable, refined and untouched treasures in his own hands and make them the means through which he would have achieved his forever-lasting glory.  
So he thought, looking down on the chair on which he used to sit when there where no customers needing him: damn it, he shall never rest, for he was the Dark Lord and his Power would've laid down everyone who would've dared oppose him.

"Ay! Tommy Tommy, boy! There's yet another delightful young lady here looking for you! Don't want to make her wait, uh, Tommy?! You can leave earlier, by the way... not really going to need ya for later this evening."

Resisting the rising temptation to debilitate him by a snap of his fingers, Tom left his meditation corner in the storehouse and went behind the desk... to find the unexpected.

He was accostumed to beautiful girls coming to see him, and although he didn't find it by any means "flattering" as many else would have, nor did he find any appeal in inquiring in further affairs with them, it was certainly preferrable to meeting a kid who couldn't have been older than fourteen years old, looking at him with widened and defiant eyes instead of quivering around the furniture like all the other maidens, too shy to even raise their heads while blabbering their indisputable love for him...

"Good evening, sir. Might you be Tom Riddle? They said it is you... please tell me if I'm mistaken, I'd be very sorry to bother otherwise " she asked politely, in a pristine but firm voice that hid a premature decisiveness: this kid was as far as timid as you can get.

"... yes, it is me. While you are?" he confirmed, a little bewildered by her sudden bold stare.

What did she want, and why did she look like she knew him perfectly? Her face was indeed familiar, but only because he had seen her a few times crossing the Slytherin  
Common Room. Worse: despite his best efforts, she was, probably unbeknownst to herself, shielding his mental penetration, so that he couldn't get to know anything about her, not even something really irrelevant. This made him incredibly nervous, irritated, and at the same time, irresistibly curious.

"My name's Emmeline Vance, pleased to meet you. I've got a few things to ask; may I temporarily distract you from your occupation? It's really important" she then asserted unhesistatingly, quickly eyeing his boss.

"Well, I have no occupation to be distracted from, haven't I?" he snarked, haggering nervously, loud enough that Caracturus could hear him.

"What, what? I said you can escort your sweetheart out, Tom! Now wander off, please, 'cause, you know, there's real business going on while you youngsters have fun!"

Tom didn't need or want to hear the last part of it: he opened the door for Emmeline and got out of the shop, in Knockturn Alley.

"I don't think we should go further: this is a good place to talk in private" Emmeline stated, looking around to check if there were any passers-by and stopping a few steps away from Borgin and Burkes' entrance.

Tom nodded, without uttering a single word. If he couldn't use magic to foresee one's identity, being silent would've normally helped his intellect in doing the exact same, with equally satisfying outcomes... and yet, all of his attempts had proved quite fruitless. Instead, he had caught a faintly perceptible rattle of a quaint friend of hers, of about the same age, coming from as far as the beginning of the alley, and guessed she wasn't as prepared to talk to him as Emmeline was.

"Alright... I know this could be very upsetting and again, I'm sorry if I'm wrong and, hence, for wasting your time. What I wanted to ask you is... are you Merope Gaunt's son?"

All of Tom's muscles stirred.

How in the world did she know that?! HOW?! Nobody knew! Nobody could know, apart from - maybe - Dumbledore! He had hidden EVERYTHING that could have given a shred of a clue about his family tree... and a fourteen-year-old girl all of the sudden asked him THAT! He was absolutely furious and immediately stood up to her, as he had nothing to fear from a nasty extroverted child, whispering as menacingly as he could:

"How in the world have you come to know that? Tell me at once, or else I suggest we shall end this conversation and part to never see each other AGAIN!"

Her expression turned into a very glum pout at that, which conveyed annoyance more than fear, outraging him even more. She let out a big breath before answering sharply, her tongue between her teeth:

"I'm sorry if I've upset you. I thought it would have been a nice thing for the both of us to know... because if you are her son, thereby you are my cousin."  
Tom's eyebrows raised so high in his forehead they almost touched his hair. She was... his relative? No, he had no relatives left! Why would anyone lie about that? To gain prestige? But if so, why was she telling him? Was she illusional? Or conversely, she was insane. Could have been, but didn't quite seem so, as she was admittedly very cunning, more than most people he'd known - which actually made for a factual chance for the two of them to be blood-related. Exasperatingly, since her mind was still impenetrable and he couldn't come up with anything logically possible, the only way he could know for sure was listening to whatever she was willing to tell him.

"And how is that?" he daintily asked, lowering his chin to her eyes to belittle her and relieve himself.

"Your father is my mother's twin brother. Her name's Dorothy Riddle. She came to know of your father's marriage upon her return to Little Hangleton to visit our grandparents: they told her."

When she stopped talking, Emmeline looked emotional. Determined though she was, it was clear that her family wasn't something she was comfortable talking about with a stranger and, much to Tom's joy, she succumbed: he finally found a breach in her mind and could gladly stop listening to her unblushing blabbering. Nevertheless, his findings weren't in the least reassuring: her father had been called Olympus Vance, of Pure-blood descent and, apparently, had been killed by his own filthy Muggle father a few years after she was born. Of course Emmeline had consciously retained this piece of information for herself, as well as that she had seen him walk past the church at his father and grandparents' funeral. She was of great courage and intellect, precocious in getting around at conundrums of any kind, but - much to his surprise and distaste - was a Hufflepuff and had an off-putting soft side to her. She loved her Muggle mother and her father and thought of him every day, which was laughable and a waste of time since she had never met him; she also consorted with the same tedious young girl that was hiding further, Eileen Prince, of whom she thought very highly for an unclear reason. It seemed to be both to boost her own ego, as she, along with another Gryffindor girl they both seemed to dislike, were the best students in their year, and because she, most reasonably, envied her for having been sorted in Slytherin.

She was a peculiar kid but, most importantly, she knew about his origins, which obliged him to keep an eye on her so that she didn't pass anything on. Once again, he realised he couldn't let her go just yet.

"Well, that's... unexpected. And, by the way, you have my most heartfelt apologies for my inexcusable behaviour, and hope you'll be able to understand this topic is a particularly sensitive one for me... as it is to you, I suppose. In all fairness, I never saw something like this happening, but, now that it has, I must say it is liberating, being able to share something so private with someone."

"I feel the same way" Emmeline commented, in such a spontaneously smooth way Tom immediately regretted his decision "And don't worry about earlier. Anyway, I feel like I should tell you... it's not only me who knows about you."

The rattle in the alley became much more audible after that and started to go with a recurring moaning.

"Come out, Eileen! You can't just nestle there all the while! He's not going to devour you, you know!"

As much as he would've liked to retort there was a very high chance of that happening, and to the both of them, Tom couldn't do anything else besides welcoming her loony partner in crime and keeping himself mannerly and pleasant as she somehow managed to trip up.

When she stood up again and got closer, she had become as crimson as a Red Cap, which was no remedy to her extraordinary lack of outward beauty. Tom usually didn't care much, but added to her dullness and cowardice, it made for one of the least people he would have liked to have an affiliation with.

"Good evening, sir... pardon, I mean Tom... pardon... I don't know how may I call you, sir" she stammered, beaded in sweat, looking at him feverishly with static eyes.

"You both call me Lord Voldemort. It's the most proper name I've come up with for myself, yet" he answered steadily, still looking at Emmeline.

"I heard that name. It is very... very fitting. You are a legend, of course. Many still love you at Hogwarts, they miss you and really wish you'd come again" Eileen continued, bending forward and constantly losing her breath while talking.

"As a matter of fact, I want to come back, and now I have one more good reason to. We shall really get to know each other, Emmeline, and make up for life's unfairness that set us apart."

"They say Headmaster Dippet was prompted by Dumbledore to reject you because he doesn't trust you to do the job, which is nonsense to me. You are possibly more apt to the job than anybody else in the Wizarding World." Eileen insisted, in a quietly worshipful tone.

Tom would have very much preferred not having been reminded that. He scoffed at Eileen and asserted:

"Professor Dumbledore can't keep me away from that position for much longer. He'll soon have to resign to the fact that all the rumors are entirely false and put away his prejudices against me."

Eileen nodded, adoring, and granted him her unremitting support. Emmeline instead was more doubtful: after an accurate mind analysis, Tom detected she suspected him for the killing of his relatives and wanted to understand if he was a racist as everyone said he was. He could have easily charmed her to forget about it, but then again, having experienced her resistance, thought it was probably safer to manipulate her from time to time with mere rhetoric and argumentations, which she seemed to be very fond of.

"However, since for the time being I won't be able to reach you at school, we'll have to meet here, in Knockturn Alley; best if before the sun sets, otherwise the street will be crowded and we'll have to move elsewhere. Please come whenever you can, for I think it will be a rewarding experience, and there's much still to be said about our family. Unfortunately, I have to go now-" Tom attempted to leave frantically, as he now needed room and time to think, but was stopped again by the two young maidens, still eager to make him despair.

"You mean just me? Or can Eileen come as well? She won't bother you, I promise: she deeply admires you and would like to-"

"You want me to teach you something, isn't it?" Tom blurted out interrupting her, when he realised he had been too straightforward and tried to correct himself "Sure I will! I will teach you, Eileen. I will teach you both, if you wish so. Ask me whatever you want and I shall be as exhaustive as I can. But then, even Knockturn Alley might be too exposed: I will check for other places, so that we'll be able to work in secrecy. Needless to say, don't tell anyone about all this, otherwise you'll fuel the baseless, ridicolous rumors that I'm, oh corrupting minds, plotting against the Muggles and the Ministry itself. Goodbye"

Finally Tom Disapparated before he could see their reaction, with a half-crooked smile on his face.

The two girls stood in silence for a few minutes, acknowledging what had been said and what they had done. Luckily, no-one followed them or looked for them, otherwise they would have got into serious trouble. Both were ecstatic and terrified at the same time, but Eileeen more the former than the latter, and Emmeline more the latter than the former.

"Do you think he is?" Eileen asked then, her eyes fixed on the thin fog engendered by his disappearance.

"I hope not..." Emmeline replied, horrified "He shouldn't be, but certainly he's not going to disclose anything to us: if we will find out, it'll be by ourselves..."

"I don't know. Maybe he will tell you, since you're his cousin" Eileen suggested, not being able to withhold her jealousy.

"Don't be silly, Eileen!" Emmeline snarled, bitterly "I'm not mature enough to be recruited and not in a very safe position, either. It takes much more than that to gain his trust!"

"Then that's what we'll do" Eileen exclaimed, her cheeks still flushed "We'll sneak out every time we leave school and come here in the afternoon!"

"Yes, about that: it's really time to get back now" Emmeline urged, starting to head out of Knockturn and to Diagon.

She was angry at Eileen for having a crush on someone they didn't even know yet and questioning, again, her real opinion on Muggles and Muggle-Borns. She knew she had to shrug it off, that it was all Minerva's fault, as she was the one who had suggested her being racist in the first place, but certainly she wasn't commited to prove her wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

_2\. Learning_

"Something wrong with you, Tommy? Been looking down and cursing in your breath for a while now! It's because of that girl who came to visit you yesterday, innit? Things didn't go as well as you would've expected, eh? It happens, sometimes... lucky you, Tommy, lucky you! You're young, you can still afford to wrap your head around these things ... the worse is yet to come!"

"Is it?" Tom snarked with his arms crossed, not bothering to turn around in Caracturus' direction.

"'Course it is! I mean, look at yourself: been playing up all day, sat on a chair, doing absolutely nothing, and you still get your paycheck 'cause apparently you bring in customers! Nothing to complain about in my opinion!"

"Well, if you put it _that_ way" Tom hummed, casually skimming the surface of his uncle's ring "I must agree. The worse _is_ yet to come, indeed..."

Sensing silence and confusion building up between the two of them, eventually Tom had to glance back at Burke and 'make up' for his pertness:

"... sadly enough."

At which the shopkeeper, probably convinced he was intentfully going to ruin his business as soon as he had the occasion to, made a very eloquent gesture and then immediately rushed back to the counter after an impatient customer had rung the bell three times.  
Most people, being, like himself, in such a favoured position they certainly would've never been fired, would've picked on Caracturus for the mere sake of amusement, but Tom's intentions were different. He flaunted his admirers whenever they came in or peeked into the shop, bragged about the fortune he'd inherited from his father, boasted the greatness of his manor and the extension of his lands, remarked how much of an high opinion everyone had of him and how he would've easily become Minister for Magic in a few years and overall leveraged each chance he had to treat him poorly to feed his envy, because envy was all Caracturus had. He was lustful, yet lonely; greedy, yet hardly self-sustaining; power-hungry, yet subject to almost everyone; ambitious, yet spiteful of those who had power; and this spite, along with the lies it spawned, was what was necessitated his murder, and made Tom's wait less miserable. Unfortunately though, as it had been nerve-wrackingly pointed out, not quite less enough that he didn't feel the need to occasionally look down and curse in his breath; and since he was looking down, he didn't notice the shopkeeper's head again peering through the door, even if more discretly.

"Tom, there are two girls needing you here. I suppose you'll have to leave" Caracturus enunciated, reprimandingly if not menancingly.

Tom got up, his body stiff, without uttering a single word, and marched towards and through the door of the storehouse, carefully so that his employer could feel the air made racy by his passing, finally reaching the two insufferable little brats.

"You arrived in time. Two hours due before sunset" he commented.

"...and that's bad?" Eileen asked, gasping, making Emmeline give her a weak and subtle nudge in rebuke.

Tom blinked twice with a steady jaw, and then replied:

"No, not bad. Not bad at all. Now follow me out, please."

"Merlin's beard, Emmeline! Do not say you're regretting this! Again, nobody's followed us!" Eileen reprimanded her in a whisper, incapable of hiding her excitement.

"I'm not regretting anything" Emmeline whispered back "But you stop squealing! It's not like he's not going to hear you eventually"

"What? Who's squealing?! I didn't squeal!"

"Be quick, please" Tom urged, magically keeping the door open for them.

The two girls immediately rushed out, and as the door purposefully slammed hard behind them, Caracturus raved outraged and Eileen burst out laughing.  
Tom walked until he reached the darkest corner of the alley, which was also the one in which Eileen had hidden a day earlier.

"We're going to Disapparate now. As this is probably your first time, I suggest you hold onto my arms very tight, possibly without weighing too much, or else something no less than disastrous might happen: you've already put yourselves in jeopardy by misbehaving, I wouldn't advice you to worsen this all by losing some part of you in an unknown location, as the Ministry of Magic could retrieve it before we do."

"We know how it's done," Emmeline alleged, in her typical haughty, bold tone "We've tried it before and we're not going to vomit."

"It worked," Eileen cheered, smiling "We travelled from the beginning to the end of a forest... yes, it's not much, but-"

"Really? What forest?" Tom asked cautiously, trying to catch a twitch of their eyes to see if they were lying.

"The Epping Forest. It's very near to where I live. We overcame it to get to London!"

His eyes widened. Just the sounding of that claim was preposterous, but it was true: no eyelid batted, no neck bent. Suddenly, he realised how innatural it had become for him to feel surprised and he felt a little uncomfortable, which was even more innatural. As much as he hadn't understated Emmeline the first time he had seen her, there were inner depths to her, and to her friend, that not even his Legilimency skills had been able to decipher: Eileen, though quaint and somewhat craven, had, just like her, potential he would've never hoped to find anywhere. Unconceivable though it was, before him were two concrete expressions of the ideal follower he'd imagined and desired for years: a careful thinker who'd also be ticking with raw magic power and frolicking to receive his commands.

"You don't believe us, do you?" Eileen squawked, clearly disappointed for not having received a praise.

Tom's mouth rested. He was still contemplating the options ensued from the revelation he'd had.

"Yes, I do," he finally answered "Now, come alongside me."

Both obeyed him with no second thoughts. Tom's lips stretched in a smile.

"Hold very tight."

A few seconds after his quiet command, the space around them clenched so much it altered their blood stream and moved bones, but the girls did not dare to complain. When they could loosen their grip, they found themselves in a lea which preceeded an extensive forest. A lukewarm sun shone on their foreheads as they raised to look around, and Emmeline had a bittersweet realisation.

"I've already been here... this is Little Hangleton! Where my uncle- your father lived!"

"Yes, it is. You've just disclosed to me your familiarity with the woods, I chose our destination accordingly. Also, I'm not just specifically knowledgeable about this forest, but I also rightfully own it, which can prevent most sorts of incidents."

"So... you came here after he died?" Emmeline was genuinely confused.

"Yes. I have no testamentary rights that I'm aware of; however, as I am his illegitimate son, I thought I'd be eligible to inherit his possessions nonetheless, assuming I was the only member of the family to still be alive. But I was wrong... wasn't I?"

"My mother bequeathed what your father had because she was his legitimate sister; there are no exceptions to that in Muggle law. These lands are hers, now" Emmeline explained, confidently.

"Yes. I thought it over yesterday and supposed that would've been most likely the case. However, we should still be able to exploit this environment for our own purposes, as long as we do not deal permanent damage" Tom claimed, looking right into her defeated eyes. She was hurt, because she loved her mother and knew he was deliberately disrespecting her. That awareness, that pain, if rightfully conveyed, would've led to his victory. From that moment on, in fact, he would've neglected tact and delicacy in the matter of his family, aiming to shape her mindset: she needed to learn Muggles deserved nothing but sheer hatred, her mother included, and that his bidding was irrefutable. Luckily, no such effort was needed for Eileen, as she already believed in Pure-blood supremacy.

"I suggest we delve into it immediately, before it gets too dark," he suggested, hurrying his steps. He didn't stomp the grass: instead, he gently dabbed it, which made him look like a snake in the desert finally approaching its prey after chasing it for an entire day. Eileen and Emmeline kept up, sharing their opinions about him, which he didn't pay attention to, since he was about to win their loyalty definitively.

After they got into the forest deep enough, Tom stopped offhanded and turned back to face them, at which they flinched. Then, he extracted his wand from his pocket and pointed it to a small log.

"Our first lesson concerns the most obscure, intangible and undeveloped discipline conjoined to the Magic Arts. Nothing in our history has never exceeded it, and yet it's always been far from getting the attention and the recognition it deserves. Even capable Wizards taught at Hogwarts, by far the best school of Witchcraft in our world, manifest a much limited knowledge of its hinges. Of course, each individual has a different learning potential, but this Art especially can be and must be developed until everything's consumed and literally returns to ashes."

Tom stood still and silent for a moment, and then, in the lapse of a second, incinerated the log with the faintest wave of his wand. A flowing stream of red sparks had escaped its tip and winded the branch, some scraping the two girls' noses.

"I'm talking about the Art of conjuring fire."

He'd done nothing they hadn't seen before, but their expression was that of someone who'd just seen the Earth rip apart.

"You felt it, didn't you? Fire... a display of pure magical power, refined by a performing technique. Fire is the only element in which form and substance are one. It's the source of everything we've ever known: it creates, it destroys. Repeated combustion is what allows all living creatures to exist, as sun itself is constantly burning, and the existence of all the other elements - air, earth and water - depends upon it. For which we can say fire is the most important element and the basic component of magic. As such, it is an imperative requisite for a Wizard to master the ability to conjure it. Muggles themselves deem the moment they first produced fire as the beginning of their civilisation. They, however, did not and will never learn how to shape it, forge it, live it through their whole self, before they let it free. We have that chance."

No doubt or distrust could be relieved on Emmeline's and Eileen's astonished faces, ambition throbbing in their cheeks and enthusiasm jumping up and down in their noses.

Tom did not hide being very pleased with their impatient countenances and continued:

"To aspire to grasp the unfathomable, however, one must not neglect Magic in any of its different forms, no matter how distant they may seem to its ever-lasting and ever-changing beauty. Contempt of Magic always leads to failure: there hasn't been a notable Wizard who hasn't proffered respect to even the meanest incantation. Merlin in the forefront, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Morgan le Fay, Bridget Wenlock, Albus Dumbledore..."

Tom stopped to emphasise the last name. His voice was getting more and more roaring and unstable, the shade of his face more colorful and livid, and his hands had gained a sort of crackling aura.

"The greatest Wizards of all time never dared to belittle and shame it, and yet fools laugh at jinxes and hexes! Swear now you've never ever disdained it, otherwise I cannot help you!"

"Never! We never disdained it" they nodded, a little uneasy, striving not to trying to touch eachothers' hands for comfort.

"I see you did not. That's... remarkable," Tom accepted. Then he channeled all his ire into his clenched left hand and by opening it he let out a fierce, huge tongue of flames. It flew up and up in the air, spinning, rippled by the wind, gaining the shape of an intertwined ring, then that of a regular, dense sphere, and finally that of a gigantic, riveting cobra, whose coils were bound in a riveting twist. Both girls were mesmerized and delighted, until the spires slimmed, split up and expired in a blinding burst. Emmeline's expression after that suggested that her malevolence hadn't behaved any differently: she indeed felt like she was about to make up for her life's unfairness, as he'd said a day earlier, and had never been happier.

"Now show me what you're already capable of."


End file.
